Bed
You stand there, without moving, for a while.
As you stand there, embracing the remains of that little doll, like a child, in the middle of the snowy landscape, the snow starts wetting your skirt. But you don't move, as if you intended to be buried by the falling snow. And finally you notice at the corner of your eye.
You can barely see it, but there's an igloo. As if seeking its warmth, accepting its tempting invitation, you start walking. Unaware.
In the place where you were until now, there were a lot of igloos together, as if they were a flock of birds getting together, trying to keep each other warm in a cold day. But this one was alone there, isolated, far from any other igloo. If the igloos were the crystallization of your fun memories as a child, this one that's so far must mean there's something you don't want to remember there.
It was an unpleasant situation, but there were no other igloos on sight, so you keep advancing vigilantly. You didn't know what kind of sadness or grief was awaiting you there. You suddenly stop on your feet. From deep inside the igloo you were approaching, there's a face peeking at you.
From the moment you see it, you know you'll hate it. It doesn't match the beautiful and snowy landscape at all with. It's ugly and unpleasant. You falter and decide to go back. In front of your eyes, something comes out of the igloo, poisoning the snowy landscape, polluting it with its footsteps, walking as if it owned the place.
In a way, it looks like a woman. A graceful, well-bred woman. She wears a gaudy dress and her hair is beautifully arranged. She looks quite refined... But her face is grotesque. She has huge eyes, but with tiny pupils, like a carnivorous bird; a long and pointy nose, like that of a witch; and when you look closely at it, her dress has poisonous feeling about it, like a wasp's or a spiders colors, meant to warn predators of their venom. She mustn't get close to you. It's dangerous, evil. That's the feeling you get from that ominous woman.
In a way, her height reminded of that of an adult's. Apparently, that woman doesn't have any particular interest in you, that keep your slow retreat, and she keeps walking without a care. It was almost as if she doesn't see you. As if she is in a completely different dimension of yours, the tall woman keeps loitering around, without taking notice of you.
Your reaction had been exaggerated. Suddenly, you start digging in the snow. Your fingers became red with frostbite, but you continued with your work without a care. After a short while, under the fallen snow, you finally manage to find the street light you remember so well. The one you found on that highway, fell on you, and became a part of you.
Why is such a thing here, buried in the snow? How did you know that digging there would bring it out? It's a mystery, but as if you had a theory yourself, you don't seem to be surprised at all by this. You embrace the traffic light with your s.h.i.+vering arms, and then put it on from the hole under it. Like a full body costume. And you look used to it, like someone that puts on her uniform everyday. You change the light to red, as if you were requesting to the tall woman walking around absentmindedly to "stop". The woman sees that, and she stops as if she was in a comedy routine. She stands still, or rather, she is completely paralyzed. She has one feet up, ready to take the next step forward, but doesn't move at all. Her fingers and her hair were still too.
You had put on the street light and projected a strong feeling of rejection. Stop. Don't move. Don't get close. No. Negative. You're wrong... With those feelings, you project the red light, and while being careful of not turning around with that street light you are wearing, you start to run away as fast as you can. Of course, not looking ahead makes it hard to walk over the snow, and you trip, falling down clumsily. As you fall down, with a perfect synchronization, the street light cracks, and you come rolling out from it.
Since the street light is broken, the tall woman begins to move again. You run away in fear, frantic, without even looking back. And then, you see something completely unnatural in front of you.
It appeared without warning from amidst the blizzard. It's something that shouldn't be here, in this white landscape. A bed. A plain and simple bed. What's more, the snow didn't pile on it, as if it was somehow warm. You run to it without losing a second and get the blanket over your head.
You cuddle, and s.h.i.+ver. As if you had seen some horror movie. Or as if your parents had scolded you and you were reluctantly to sleep. You closed your eyes strongly, as if you were trying to force yourself to sleep, curling under the blanket.
Falling asleep when you're already dreaming. Finding a bed deep into your bed. Falling deeper, closer to the core, as if you were sinking into the sea depths. While you do that, the tall woman keeps walking around aimlessly outside the bed. Like an overprotective parent checking if the noisy kid is asleep. With her awfully disgusting eyes rolling constantly. Looking into the bed, as if she meant to pour an awful curse on you if you were to show the most little sign of being awake. The woman is not going away. She just keeps walking around endlessly.
Sleeping is your scape route. Running away and closing your eyes in front of what you don't want to see. But there's a fundamental difference here. A family you hate, a workplace or school you hate... you have to face those again as soon as you wake up. Reality is always right there, waiting for you, no matter how deep you try to go in your sleep. Of course, sleeping is not gonna fix anything. The woman keeps walking around you purposelessly but tirelessly. Without a shred of affection nor love, checking if you make any reaction inside the bed, with her endless observation. Ready to strike a c.o.c.kroach as it appears, to pull off a hair with splits ends... as soon as, maybe out of discomfort, you move, even if only slightly.
You just want desperately to get away from that unpleasant tall woman. But hiding is not gonna help you. You start searching under the blankets for something that may help you, taking care that the tall woman doesn't notice. And there is something.
It's the small doll with blue hair that you thought had disappeared just a while back. Like a restless kid in bed, you embrace that carefully. You press her against your chest, and with a smile on her face, she disappears. Usually, it's hard to see under the blankets, but who hasn't light a flashlight and played as if the ruler of their own little kingdom? In such a dim light, you see the doll become a set of changing clothes.
At some point, all girls forget about dolls and start to care about their clothes. Dressing up fas.h.i.+onable, taking care of makeup...... and by doing so they become dolls themselves. With that, girls turn into women, and seal their memories deep into their dreams.
You change under the blanket. In a sense, it's like someone that tries to stay warm while changing into their uniforms on a cold morning. Holding for a little longer the need to face reality, and lingering under the blanket of dreams. As soon as you finish changing, you come out of the blanket.
Looking at you, it's hard to tell you apart from the doll. The burial clothes. Your hair, with that blue color. It was a perfect imitation. Every woman has sometime wanted to change into the clothes of a doll they loved as little girls.
You look only once at the tall woman. But she doesn't seem to care at all about adults or dolls. Uninterested, she turns away and leaves somewhere else.
You let out a sight of relief, and turn towards the igloo you were aiming for earlier. You were strongly dragged to it. The tall woman is far away now, so you enter calmly into it.
It's clearly different from any other igloo you've seen. In the floor, there is a spring. It was a small puddle, the size of one you'd use to rinse your face every morning. It has a strange hue, like that of a thick lotion or face cream. Everyone rinses their faces when starting to face reality in the morning. Then, adult girls turn to makeup.
While thinking about all this, you sink your fingers into the spring.
Somewhere, the tall woman's scorning laugh echoes full of contempt.